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Spotted dog, or 'spotted dick' and 'railway cake' in parts of Leinster, is white soda bread with a handful of raisins and a little sugar, the sweet loaf Irish grandmothers bake for the afternoon tea or Sunday visitors. It is soft, slightly cakey and best warm, split and buttered. Chef's tip: toss the dried fruit in the flour first so it stays spread through the loaf instead of sinking.
Gur cake was the cheapest treat in Dublin bakeries, made from the day's leftover bread and cake soaked with tea, dried fruit and spice and baked between two sheets of pastry. It gave its name to the 'gurriers', the kids who mitched school and bought slices for a ha'penny, and you still find it in the bakeries of the inner city, where it is also called Chester cake. It is dense, sticky and spiced. Chef's tip: let the filling soak for a good half hour so the bread breaks down completely into a smooth paste.
Spiced beef is the Christmas meat of Cork city, sold in the English Market in December and served cold in thin slices on St Stephen's Day with brown bread and chutney. A piece of brisket or silverside is rubbed with salt, brown sugar, allspice, cloves and juniper and turned in the fridge for a week, then simmered slowly and pressed. The meat comes out deep pink, tender and fragrant. Chef's tip: keep it in the fridge the whole week of curing and turn it every day so the cure reaches every side.
Brown soda bread is on every Irish table, from the Aran Islands to Wexford, sliced thickly at breakfast and served beside soup or smoked salmon in pubs. It is raised with bicarbonate of soda and sour buttermilk instead of yeast, so it is mixed and in the oven in ten minutes, with a nutty, coarse crumb and a hard crust. Chef's tip: mix with a light hand only until it comes together; kneading makes soda bread tough and heavy.
Porter cake is the Dublin fruit cake made with stout, the dark beer once drunk by the porters of Dublin's markets and docks; it is baked for Christmas, christenings and wakes across Leinster. The fruit is simmered in the stout, which gives the crumb a deep, malty, slightly bitter flavour and keeps it moist for weeks. This recipe contains alcohol: most of it cooks off, but for an alcohol-free version use strong black tea or alcohol-free stout. Chef's tip: wrap the cooled cake and leave it for 2–3 days before cutting; it slices better and tastes richer.
Irish scones are the centre of afternoon tea in hotels and country houses from Galway to Wicklow, and the bake that every Irish cook makes from memory. Buttermilk makes them light and tender with a faint tang, and an egg wash gives the glossy golden top. Serve warm, split, with butter, raspberry jam and whipped cream. Chef's tip: press the cutter straight down without twisting; twisting seals the edges and stops them rising tall.
After a morning on the slopes, Austrians head into the mountain huts of Tyrol, Salzburg and Styria for one thing: a Germknödel the size of a fist, steamed until pillowy and split open to reveal dark plum butter. It comes drowned in melted butter, or in vanilla sauce, under a thick snow of ground poppy seeds and icing sugar, and it is eaten as a whole meal. The dough is soft and slightly sweet, and the powidl inside is tart and jammy. A common mistake is lifting the lid while they steam; the dumplings deflate and turn heavy. Chef's tip: seal each dumpling with the seam underneath and let them prove a second time on squares of baking paper, so you can move them without denting them.
Dublin lawyer is an old Dublin restaurant dish, said to be named because lawyers were rich and fond of drink: lobster meat is cooked in butter, flamed with Irish whiskey and finished with cream, then served back in the shell. It is a special-occasion dish for anniversaries and birthdays. This recipe contains alcohol; for an alcohol-free version replace the whiskey with 2 tablespoons of apple juice and a squeeze of lemon. Chef's tip: buy cooked lobster from a fishmonger if you are unsure about preparing a live one, and add it to the sauce only to heat through.
Dublin Bay prawns are not prawns at all but langoustines, the small orange lobsters landed at Howth and Clogherhead and once sold off the boats along the north Dublin coast. Seafood bars in Howth serve them split and grilled under a sizzling garlic, lemon and parsley butter, with brown bread to mop the plate. Chef's tip: they cook in minutes, so take them out as soon as the flesh turns from translucent to white.
Boxty is the potato pancake of the north midlands, from Leitrim, Cavan and Fermanagh, remembered in the rhyme 'boxty on the griddle, boxty in the pan'. Raw grated potato is mixed with mashed potato, flour and buttermilk, then fried, giving a cake that is crisp and lacy outside and soft and slightly chewy inside. Eat it for breakfast with eggs and tomatoes, or wrapped round a creamy mushroom filling. Chef's tip: squeeze the grated potato hard in a cloth; wet potato gives soggy, grey boxty.
Every Irish county has its apple cake, but it is especially loved in Armagh's orchard country and in Kerry, baked in late September when the Bramleys come in. Sharp cooking apples bake into soft, tart pockets in a buttery sponge, under a crunchy sugar and cinnamon crumb. Serve warm with custard or softly whipped cream. Chef's tip: toss the apple slices in lemon juice and sugar only at the last minute, or they release water into the batter.
Carrageen is a frilly red seaweed picked from the rocks of the west coast, from Donegal down to Clare, and dried on the grass in the sun. Simmered in milk, it releases a natural setting agent, so this old Irish pudding sets like a soft blancmange without gelatine. It tastes of vanilla and lemon with a faint breath of the sea, and is served chilled with stewed rhubarb or soft fruit. Chef's tip: soak the carrageen well and rinse off the sand before you start; any grit ends up in the pudding.
Champ is the creamy mashed potato of Ulster, eaten in farmhouse kitchens from Tyrone to Monaghan, and once pounded in a big pot with a wooden beetle for the whole family. Scallions are steeped in hot milk, then beaten into floury potatoes with salt, pepper and butter, so it is soft, green-flecked and gently oniony. Serve in a mound with a pool of butter in the centre, next to sausages or a pie. Chef's tip: dip each forkful into the butter well, as is done at home; don't stir the butter through.
Potato soup is what Irish pubs and farmhouse kitchens set down on a wet afternoon from Kerry to Mayo, always with a heel of brown soda bread. Floury potatoes, onion and leek are sweated in butter and simmered in stock, then blended to a velvety, comforting soup with a gentle onion sweetness. A swirl of buttermilk and chives adds freshness. Chef's tip: sweat the leeks slowly without browning them; colour makes the soup taste bitter and turns it grey.
In Vienna the Gugelhupf is the Sunday cake of home bakers, set out on the table for afternoon Jause with coffee, and every family has its own fluted copper or ceramic mould. Unlike the yeasted ring cakes of Alsace and southern Germany, the everyday Viennese one is a Rührgugelhupf, a buttery sponge lifted with whisked egg whites, scented with lemon and studded with plump raisins. It is tender, light and keeps moist for several days under a cake dome. A common mistake is a badly greased mould; every ridge needs butter and flour or the cake tears as it comes out. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in hot water for 15 minutes, dry them and toss them in a spoon of flour so they don't sink.
Herring was the silver fortune of Killybegs and the Donegal coast, when the boats came in loaded through the autumn, and the cheapest supper in every fishing village was fresh herring rolled in oatmeal and fried. The oats make a nutty, crunchy crust around the rich, soft fish. Serve with boiled potatoes and a wedge of lemon or a spoonful of mustard. Chef's tip: press the oats on firmly and let the fish sit for 5 minutes before frying, so the coating sticks.
Bacon and cabbage is the Sunday dinner and the everyday dinner of rural Ireland, cooked in farmhouses from Tipperary to Mayo long before corned beef became the emigrants' version. A joint of cured pork, usually collar or loin bacon, is simmered gently, then the cabbage is cooked in the same salty, porky water, and both are served with floury potatoes and a white parsley sauce. Chef's tip: soak the bacon joint overnight in cold water if it is very salty; ask your butcher, as some cures are milder.
The full Irish, or simply 'the fry', is the big weekend breakfast served in B&Bs from Donegal to Kerry and in Dublin cafés before the match. It differs from the English breakfast in its back rashers, black and white pudding, and fried soda bread or potato bread to mop up. It contains pork: sausages, rashers and puddings. Chef's tip: cook in stages in one large pan and keep each item warm in a low oven, so everything reaches the plate hot together.
Crubeens are boiled pig's trotters, once sold hot from stalls at fairs and in Cork and Dublin pubs as a salty, sticky snack to go with a pint. They are pork, and very gelatinous: simmered for hours until the meat almost falls from the bone, then crisped in the oven with a mustard and breadcrumb coating, which is how many cooks finish them today. Eat them with your fingers, with brown bread and pickles. Chef's tip: ask your butcher for split, cleaned trotters, and singe off any stray hairs with a kitchen blowtorch before cooking.
Dingle pies are small, round mutton pies made in west Kerry for the Puck Fair in Killorglin, for fishermen going to sea, and for farmers at the mart, often reheated in a bowl of the mutton broth. A firm hot-water-crust pastry holds a peppery filling of lamb or mutton, onion and carrot, so they travel well and are eaten by hand or with gravy. Chef's tip: shape the pastry while it is still warm; hot-water crust cracks and won't mould once it cools.
The sheltered waters of Bantry Bay in West Cork grow rope mussels that end up in pots in every harbour pub from Glengarriff to Kinsale. Here they are steamed in Irish dry cider with leek, garlic and thyme, then finished with a spoonful of cream, giving a sweet-sour, apple-scented broth for dipping brown bread. The cider contains alcohol, which mostly cooks off; for an alcohol-free version use cloudy apple juice with a teaspoon of cider vinegar. Chef's tip: the mussels must be alive when cooked, so check every one before they go in.
Colcannon is the Halloween potato dish of Ireland, from Munster farmhouses to Dublin kitchens, where a ring or a coin was once hidden in the bowl to tell fortunes. Floury potatoes are mashed with hot milk, a lot of butter and dark leafy kale or green cabbage, so it is creamy, green-flecked and savoury. Serve it with a well of melted butter in the middle, alongside sausages or a nut roast. Chef's tip: warm the milk with the spring onions before mashing; cold milk makes the mash gluey and tastes flat.
Barmbrack is the speckled fruit loaf eaten in Ireland at Halloween, when a ring wrapped in baking paper is baked inside, and whoever finds it is said to marry within the year. This is the quick tea brack version made all over Connacht and Munster, with the dried fruit soaked overnight in strong tea so the loaf is dark, moist and fragrant with mixed spice. Serve sliced and buttered with a cup of tea. Chef's tip: soak the fruit for a full night; short soaking gives dry, chewy fruit.
The blaa is the soft white roll of Waterford city, said to have been brought by French Huguenot bakers in the 1700s, and it carries protected status in Europe. The rolls are proofed close together and dusted thickly in flour, so they have pale, tender sides and a fine, white floury crust. Waterford people eat them for breakfast with butter, or split and filled with crisps or a 'rasher blaa'. Chef's tip: bake them touching each other in a hot oven for only a short time; they should stay pale and soft, never crusty.
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